“Well, go on, my darling. You would like to have what?”
“We should like to have a sitting-room of our own.”
“Oh!”
“To which,” Julia went on, emboldened by her mother’s mild expression of face, “to which we could ask our friends without upsetting the house, and—and—and—”
“Go on,” said Regina.
“Well, you see, most girls nowadays have an At Home day of their own—just for their own friends, irrespective of their mothers.”
“I haven’t time for an At Home day,” said Regina. “I used to have one, but I gave it up when you went to Paris.”
“I think that was rather foolish of you, mother,” said Julia. “A woman is nothing nowadays if she doesn’t have an At Home day. I don’t quite see myself what all your work brings you.”
“Brings me?” echoed Regina.
“Yes, brings you. What’s the good of working day and night, toiling into the small hours of the morning for a lot of other people? What do they ever do for you, mother?”